


Devil with The Blue Jeans on

by Python07



Series: King and Country [13]
Category: Kingsman (Movies), The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: First Kiss, First Meetings, First Time Blow Jobs, M/M, Musketeers/Kingsman modern fusion, alcohol and fluff, young Armand and Jean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 13:31:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13705473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Python07/pseuds/Python07
Summary: Jean and his friends use fake IDs to get into the club.Armand's friends drag him out cause he works too hard.They meet and there's a storm of alcohol infused hormones.





	1. Belgard smirked. “I’m doing you a favor.”

Jean’s hands were sweating and his heart pounding in his chest the whole time he, Gaston, and Belgard waited in line to get into the club. He glanced at all the people ahead of and behind them. Most of them wore flashier club gear and styled their hair in all manner of odd ways.

Jean looked down at himself in just his jeans and tight t shirt. He bit his bottom lip. He really didn’t belong here. He belonged on the football field. He belonged at Mum and Dad’s shop. He belonged helping his sister with her homework. How did he let Belgard talk him into this?

Because he didn’t know what to do now that he’d graduated. Because Dad expected him to know exactly what he wanted to do with his life. Because Mum expected him to be the first in their family to attend uni but he’d always hated classes. He knew he wasn’t what most would call an intellectual.

Because Belgard was one year older than him and seemed so much more worldly than him. Because Belgard didn’t go to university. Because he had some shady job and a bit of cash. Because it seemed that all Belgard did was enjoy himself.

Because Gaston really wanted to go and he didn’t want Belgard to get Gaston into anything worse than sneaking into a club. Because both of them were sixteen year old idiots listening to a seventeen year old idiot. Because Belgard made them feel as if they had to, to prove they were men now.

Because he was tired of hiding in the bathroom or under his covers late at night to find relief. He was tired of just a fantasy and his hand. He was tired of the shy fumbles with like minded classmates. He was tired of kissing Gaston. They were too much like brothers.

Belgard thumped Jean’s shoulder and ginned. He leaned in close to Jean’s ear. “Stop looking so guilty.” He looked over Jean’s shoulder at Gaston. “Tell him, di Foix.”

Gaston hugged Jean’s other arm. His smile was boyish and entirely too innocent. “No one will look at us twice unless you give them reason to.”

“IDs,” the guy at the door demanded gruffly.

Belgard was the first to do so. He puffed his chest out. “Of course. Hiya doin’ tonight, Pete?”

Jean’s hand barely trembled as he handed his over. He wiped his sweaty hands on his pants. He tried to look nonchalant. He really did, but he kept shifting his weight nervously.

Gaston joyfully handed his over. He plastered himself even closer to Jean’s side. He intertwined their fingers. 

Pete was a huge, hulking man in a cheap suit. He didn’t say anything. He barely looked at them or their fake IDs. He passed over them with the flashlight once. He let out a bored sigh and handed them back. He pointed his thumb over his shoulder to signal they could go inside.

Jean’s jaw dropped at the size of the place. At one end, there was a large stage with a DJ and all of his equipment. The dance floor was huge and packed with moving bodies: men with women, men with men, and women with women. There were strobe lights, lasers, and a fog machine. The bar rang along another wall and tables and chairs were scattered throughout.

Belgard laughed. It was companionable, instead of his usual derisive laughter. He waved. “Come on.”

Jean and Gaston followed as Belgard made his way through the crowd to the bar. He found two free stools next to each other and pushed them to sit down. He stood behind them and put a hand on each of their shoulders. He leaned in close so they could hear him over the music. “What do you fancy?”

Jean and Gaston shrugged and looked at each other. “Lager?” Jean finally answered.

Gaston licked his lips anxiously. “Yeah, I’ve had lager before.”

Belgard snorted. “This isn’t your dad’s pub.” He caught the eye of one of the bartenders. “A round of tequila shots.”

Gaston laughed but his voice broke. “Isn’t that supposed to be strong stuff?”

Belgard ruffled Gaston’s hair. “We’re here to have a wild night, aren’t we? We want to celebrate, right?”

“Yes,” Gaston hedged.

Belgard hugged them both. “Trust me.”

Jean just rolled his eyes.

The bartender set the drinks in front of them, along with a shaker of salt and lime wedges. He glanced at the three of them. He ducked his head and gave a small smile before he set about making the next round of drinks.

Belgard grabbed the salt and the lime. “Pay attention. This is easy.” He licked the back of his hand and sprinkled some salt on it. Then he swiftly breathed out, licked the salt, threw back a shot of tequila, and bit into the lime. He whooped at the burn and slammed his empty glass down. He had a wild grin. “Your turn. Do it quick.”

Jean and Gaston mimicked Belgard together. They quietly counted to three together. They licked the salt off their hands, drank their shots, and bit into the limes.

Gaston gasped. His eyes watered. “That was terrible,” he rumbled.

Jean blinked. The burn was intense. It was like his throat was on fire.

Belgard laughed and slapped both of them on the back. “Well done.” He held up his hand for another round. “Let’s try it with a dash of Tabasco sauce this time. It’s called the Prairie Fire.”

Jean’s tongue was on fire afterwards. However, his sinuses were clear. “Wow.”

Gaston made it through the second shot but his eyes were still watering. He was flushed. He held a hand up. “Something else please.”

Belgard’s grin softened. “How about something sweet then?”

Gaston’s face lit up. “Yes, and maybe something to eat.”

“The nachos here are great. How about a root beer shot?”

“What’s that?”

That turned out to be a shot of root beer schnapps lit on fire and dropped into a mug of beer. Jean enjoyed it. He enjoyed the nachos and the pretzels. He enjoyed most of the other shots Belgard insisted they try. He enjoyed the heat of so many people in the club. He enjoyed the mix of techno and rock music. He found that he also enjoyed watching a man in a corner booth.

“Earth to Jean,” Belgard whispered in Jean’s ear.

Jean started. “What?”

Belgard nodded in the man’s direction. “There’s three blokes over there,” he said in a conspiratorial tone to Gaston. “Which one’s caught his fancy, do you think?”

Gaston giggled. “The one with the riotous curls.”

“Really?”

Yes, Jean, really wanted to run his hands through those curls. He wanted to feel how soft they were. He wanted to bury his face in the side of the man’s neck. He wanted to lick that smooth expanse of skin.

Belgard leaned between them to get the bartender’s attention. He pointed to the table. “Send over a round of whatever they’re drinking.”

“What are you doing?” Jean hissed.

Belgard smirked. “I’m doing you a favor.”


	2. “We have guests,” Ax announced.

The lights in his kitchen were harsh and reflected on the pages. Armand shut his eyes when the words began to blur. He slumped back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. He shook his head and ran both hands through his already chaotic curls. He scratched his scalp.

There was a joyful whoop and a pair of arms wrapped themselves around his neck from behind. A pair of lips planted a sloppy kiss on his cheek. “They had to toss you out of the library, didn’t they? Have you forgotten finals are over?”

Armand sighed wearily. He smiled and patted the arms. “I’m well aware, Ax, but Professor Septimus --”

“That old goat,” Ax interrupted. 

“Professor Septimus…” Armand continued as if Ax hadn’t interrupted. “…is the foremost scholar on Islamic studies. He has accepted me as his research assistant and he’s been quite clear on his expectations.” 

“We’ve been doing nothing but studying for weeks. I feel like we’ve been drowning. It’s time to come up for some air.”

Armand tried to sit forward, away from Ax. “Besides, he can’t be as bad as Professor Yelich last summer, but to be fair, he helped me learn Russian in three months. We still have tea once a week so I can practice.”

“Shut up,” Ax growled. He kept Armand in place and kissed Armand’s other cheek. “Joseph, help me out here,” he pleaded.

Joseph stepped into view. He perched on the front edge of the kitchen table next to Armand. He seriously studied Armand for a long moment. 

It took Armand a few seconds to process Joseph’s appearance. He wasn’t used to seeing his friend in ripped tight jeans and tight black t-shirt. Was that eyeliner? He couldn’t make sense of it. If there was another twenty-three year old as serious as Armand, it was Joseph. All he could do was blink stupidly.

One end of Joseph’s mouth suddenly quirked up. He half turned to close Armand’s books. He nodded to Ax. 

Ax crowed in triumph. He pulled Armand’s chair away from the table. He grabbed Armand’s arm to pull him up. “Come on. We’re going out for some fun.”

Before Armand knew it, Ax had dragged him to the bathroom. “Don’t I get a choice in this?”

Ax was dressed similarly to Joseph except he wore leather pants. He didn’t need any make up. He smirked. “No because you can’t be trusted.” He let to go turn on the shower and get the towels. He put the towels over the space heater. “If it weren’t for us, you’d only leave this flat to go to class or the library. It’s our duty to get you out for a good time. Who knows? Maybe we can even get you laid.”

Armand saw Joseph silently blocking the doorway. He rolled his eyes. “I’m not that bad. I also like fencing and aikido.”

Joseph simply folded his arms across his chest while Ax snorted a laugh. “Which you’ve been slacking on since finals started. You’re the only person I know that can forget to eat.”

“That happened once.”

Ax smirked. “More like once a week.” He gestured to Armand. “Get it off.”

“You two can leave. I don’t need your help to shower.”

Ax arched his eyebrows and rubbed his hands together in evil anticipation. “Fine. I’ll go pick out your clothes.”

Armand cursed under his breath and looked at Joseph. “Well?”

Joseph turned his back but didn’t move from his post in the doorway.

“That’s as good as I’m going to get,” Armand muttered and stripped. He stepped under the hot spray. He shut his eyes and faced the spray. He finally let himself relax and his mind wander.

“Hurry up in there!” Ax called.

Armand started. “Piss off!” he called back.

Ax laughed. His voice came from just the other side of the shower curtain. “We’re not leaving so get on with it.”

Armand glared but quickly washed. He accepted a warm towel from Ax. He rubbed himself down and wrapped it around his waist before he stepped out of the tub. He grabbed the other warm towel for his hair.

Ax lead the way back into the bedroom. He pointed to the clothes laid out on Armand’s bed: dark blue tight jeans and a blue silk button down shirt. “The blue will bring out your eyes and leave it open at the neck.”

Armand rubbed the towel over his head. “That’s not as bad as I thought it would be,” he admitted.

Ax let out a put upon sigh. “That’s because you won’t let me take you shopping.”

Armand rolled his eyes. “Oh, get out. I refuse to dress with an audience.”

Ax chuckled and turned to Joseph. “Come on. We’ll wait in the hall.”

Armand waited until they were gone and his bedroom door was firmly closed. He took his time dressing. He completed the look with black boots. Then he ran a comb through his damp curls. He knew the order would be short-lived and he did it out of habit more than anything else.

There was a short knock and Ax stuck his head in. “Can we please put something in your hair?”

Armand ran his fingers through it. “No.”

“But,” Ax pouted. “What do you think, Joseph?”

Joseph replied by pulling Ax back.

Armand laughed. He stopped for one last look at himself in the mirror. He took a deep breath and went to join his friends.

He let them bundle him into a taxi. He let them take him to the club. They weaved their way through the crowd to the corner booth. He sat between them and let them ply him with vodka shots and something called a kilted black leprechaun. He didn’t know what was in it but it tasted wonderful.

The club was hot, the music was loud, the food was good and greasy, and he mellowed with the drinks. He was able to just stop thinking. He put his head back and closed his eyes.

The waitress set another tray of drinks down on the table. She unloaded the glasses. She smiled and nodded to three scruffy young men at the bar. Two sat on stools and the other stood between them. “Courtesy of those gentlemen at the bar.”

The young man standing raised his glass towards them. He looked to be in charge as the second was dancing on his stool and didn’t seem to be paying attention. The third was avidly watching them. 

Armand didn’t move.

Ax leaned across Armand so Joseph could hear him. “Notice the way that one is staring at us?”

Joseph arched an eyebrow and tilted his head towards Armand.

Ax grinned widely and nodded. He sat up to wave the three over while Joseph nudged Armand. Armand raised his head and ran a hand through his hair. “What?”

“We have guests,” Ax announced. 

Armand’s breath caught at the blue eyes staring at him. He couldn’t look away. His heart started thumping wildly in his chest. His palms were sweating.

Ax stood up to greet them. “Thank you for the drinks.”

The one in charge pointed to himself proudly. “I’m Belgard. These are my friends, Gaston and Jean.”

“A pleasure. I’m Ax. Tall, silent, and broody over there is Joseph.” 

Ax paused to pat Armand’s shoulder and Armand noticed Jean’s eyes narrow. Armand eased away. He threw his head back a little to get the hair out of his face and ran a hand through it again.

Ax spared him a brief smirk. “Fluffy curls is Armand.” He grabbed a couple chairs from the next table. “Won’t you sit down.”

Armand didn’t know how he ended up with Jean next to him. He smiled nervously. “Jean, right?” 

Jean’s grin was dazzling. “Yes, Armand.”

Jean said his name like he was eating a fine desert and Armand felt the flush creeping up the back of his neck. He distracted himself by grabbing one of the glasses. He threw it back. He closed his eyes to savor it and licked his lips.

The drinks continued to flow freely along with the conversation and music around him. Armand lost track of it all. He didn’t notice everyone else disappear, leaving him alone with Jean.

Jean was still staring at him. There was a fluttering in his chest. He tilted his head down to let his hair shield his face.

Jean tucked the offending hair behind Armand’s ear. He cupped Armand’s cheek. He smiled sheepishly. “It’s as soft as it looks.”

Armand leaned into the warm touch. His eyes flicked down to Jean’s parted lips. He cupped the back of Jean’s neck and kissed him.

Jean groaned and immediately opened up to the kiss. His lips moved against Armand’s, eager and almost clumsy. He thrust his tongue in Armand’s mouth.

Armand took his turn to explore Jean’s mouth. Jean tasted of Irish cream, rum, and nachos. He threaded his fingers through Jean’s hair. His free hand found it’s way under Jean’s shirt to touch his bare stomach.

They barely paused for air as the kisses became more open, wet, and needy. Hands roamed, seeking skin. The world receded and nothing mattered besides the heat building between them.

Suddenly, Jean shoved Armand back into the corner of the booth. He straddled Armand’s lap, captured his mouth in another bruising kiss, and sank both hands into Armand’s curls. He ground his hips down against Armand’s.

Armand sat up to press against Jean. He yanked Jean’s head back to attack Jean’s throat. He nipped and sucked at the side of Jean’s neck.

Jean moaned and squirmed in Armand’s lap. He tilted his head to push his neck towards Armand. He tugged on Armand’s hair.

Armand was so hard it almost hurt. He felt Jean’s answering hardness. He palmed it while he sharply nipped Jean’s skin.

Jean shuddered and moaned. He turned his head to give Armand a biting kiss. He scraped his teeth along Armand’s bottom lip. Then he pushed Armand back again and slithered off Armand’s lap to kneel at Armand’s feet under the table. He ran his hands down Armand’s chest.

Armand’s breath hitched as Jean eagerly unzipped his jeans to free him. He threw his head back when he was engulfed by a hot mouth. He rested both hands on Jean’s head.

Jean enthusiastically ran his tongue over Armand’s flesh. He ran his hands along Armand’s thighs. He stopped briefly to breathe before going down on Armand again, licking and sucking and humming.

Armand was close. He tugged Jean’s hair in warning. Jean just gave him a feral smile and sucked harder. He bit his lip and exploded deep down Jean’s throat. He heard Jean’s moan of completion.

Armand collapsed back against the seat. He was hardly aware of Jean licking him clean. Then Jean was back in his lap, spent, with his head on his shoulder and breathing heavily against his neck. He ran a hand down Jean’s back and passed out.


End file.
